


Bright Light City, Gonna' Set My Soul On Fire

by Alayne_StoneColdFox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blindfolds, Cheating, Daddy Kink, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Las Vegas, Marriage of Convenience, Mild S&M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alayne_StoneColdFox/pseuds/Alayne_StoneColdFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,<br/>So get those stakes up higher.<br/>There's a thousand pretty women waitin' out there,<br/>And they're all livin' devil may care,<br/>And I'm just the devil with love to spare.<br/>Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright Light City, Gonna' Set My Soul On Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ocularis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocularis/gifts).



> Vegas AU, if you couldn't tell.

Sansa Stark was perfect.

Her whole life, her whole image, everything about her embodied an easy perfection that seemed to come naturally, yet seemed so very on purpose.

Growing up in Georgia, rich and privileged and raised so right. Manners and class and the soft gentle graces of a true southern belle. The big white house and the picket fence, the respectable name, the good grades, the beauty pageant winner at ages twelve through to sixteen, high school cheerleader, the prom queen, Sansa Stark just had it. That 'it' that never cracked once. Even down to the details. Sansa Stark never even slipped with something as small as a chipped nail. Her manicure was always freshly done, and never in a gaudy colour. Her shoes and bag always matched her outfit. People could try and try to find any kind of flaw to bring her down in some way, any small way, but it seemed an impossible task. The envious and the admirers alike simply had to admit that Sansa Stark was perfect, with affection or hatred in their tone as they did so. She was a perfectly respectable lady.

And that why it would not do, for anyone to see her getting out of a taxi in the parking lot of a Las Vegas Strip Club at three o clock in the afternoon.

“Keep the change,” she smiled graciously to the driver, trying to hide the twang of her southern accent as she closed the door, heading into the club.

Vegas was a twenty four hour party city, as advertised to the masses that flocked here. Even now the music was low and thrumming, the lights were neon red and purple from floor to glass ceilings, and dancers already had men entranced as Sansa slipped by unnoticed at the back. One of the heavy set bouncers placed by a door looked mildly surprised, but accommodating, as he gave her a curt nod and a smile before letting her through without a word.

Petyr Baelish was at his desk with a cigarette hanging out one side of his mouth as he looked up to see her at the door.

His arms opened wide and he leant back with an easy smile.

“Well, if it isn't the blushing bride,” he said, cigarette stubbed out in an overflowing ash tray as she shut the door behind her.

“Well, hello to you too.” she smoothed down her skirt before taking a seat, handbag placed on the floor besides her, hands gently folding in her lap.

“You want a drink? By the way you sounded on the phone, you sounded like you needed a drink.”

she held up a hand “I'm fine, Petyr.”

“Well too bad, I already got the drink.” he muttered, opening up his desk drawer, the sound of glasses chinking together as he pulled out two tumblers and a bottle of whisky.

“You know I saw you and Harry's ten page spread in the latest Home and Livin', it happened to be lying around my dentists office, don't think I went lookin' for it,” he spoke as he poured “and I have to say that Vera Wang was the right choice. Cinched you in in all the right places, those pictures came up real nice. I tore one out. Keep it in my bedside dresser.”

Sansa smiled, despite herself, taking the drink and almost melting into the familiarity of his tone. That way he oozed his words, low and inviting. Most people heard his practised voice. The one he'd taught himself to do to sound more refined, to be taken more seriously as he rose up in the world, wheeled and dealed, fashioned himself as a businessman. Then there was the voice she caught. If you really listened you could pick up on the way he drawled, how the words started to blend together. The little boy from small town Alabama tried his best to cover up his roots, but he couldn't hide it from her. She'd picked it up the hour she'd met him and by now he didn't even bother to hide his accent when they were alone like this.

“You kept that picture, of all pictures?” she couldn't help but tease.

He smiled deviously over the rim of his glass, smacking his lips a little over the sting of the straight whisky “You wanna' send me any new pictures, be my guest, sweet thing.”

“You're disgusting.” She tutted, smile never leaving her.

He always looked so self satisfied, like he was sat playing poker with a winning hand and all the chips on the table. In a town of sleazy bastards, Petyr Baelish was their king, wether they knew it or not.

“Now how is our dear Harry?” he asked.

“Oh, he's having a fine time.” Sansa waved a hand “Gambling. Drinking. Bringing every willin' cocktail waitress back to my suite, spending all our hard earned money while he's at it. Think's he's a damn Rockerfeller now.”

Petyr nodded “Yeah I've been hearing 'bout his braggin'. Acting like the hotels new surge in business is down to his prowess, and not the wing a'new suites and two new clubs I funded in all those renovations. The Arryn would still be pullin' in shit without us...you say he's been gamblin?”

Sansa nodded.

“How bad?”

She shrugged, softly “Well...if the whole point of me marrying him was to get enough money to fund my own damn hotel renovations, then the new Winterfell may as well be the size of this office.”

Petyr heard the barely contained fury he knew she was holding back.

“Now, I'm sure it's not that bad.”

“He's put it all on the back burner, Petyr! I keep showing him the blueprints, the plans, the designs we had made, it's all ready to go and now he's hot steppin' around it, doesn't even want to talk about it! He's blowin' money as fast as we can make it, and how the hell can we get this new project off the ground if he's not even interested! He told me he wanted this just as much as I did!”

“Of course he did, he thought he was trying to get you into bed.”

“Petyr, be helpful.”

He threw his hands in the air “What you want me to suggest? You wan't me to run him over with my car? Honey, we just signed you up to inherit half his entire estate and savings, killin' him off two months after the wedding will have police at your door in minutes.”

“....what about eight months?”

He clucked his tongue “I taught you better than that. When we went into this I told you two years minimum. Then we film him fuckin' the hired help, a girlfriend he has on the side, whichever, release the tape, out the fact he has two bastard little kids up in florida, and everyone thinks you're the innocent victim to his philandering ways. Tragic divorce. Everyone's on your side. We get the money, the media sympathy, half the Arryn and the newly built Winterfell. Cross your fingers and hope he gets into a car accident on his own terms, by all means, but 'till then we stick to the plan.”

Sansa begrudgingly seemed to agree, though she shuffled in her seat “It's just so embarrassin'....everyone see's what he's doing, he's not quiet about it....bet he's picked somethin' up from all those waitresses too.” her face screwed up at the thought.

“If you want I'll offer him free drinks here. Get him away from the slot machines and cheap cocktail girls and have my girls be his distractions. The screened ones, they get their tests done so you won't catch nothing.”

“Aw, and people say you ain't sweet,” she smiled.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, and it doesn't suit you.”

Sansa breathed in and released, shoulders slumping.

“So what am I supposed to do in the meantime? It's like being married to a lazy teenager, and I'm the nagging mother, asking when he's going to meet with the architects and financiers, and he just grunts at me, tells me he'll deal with it later, to get off his case, he's a busy man.” Sansa scoffs.

Petyr taps on the desk with a ringed finger, and she can sense he wants to say something.

“What? What is it?”

He shrugs “Nothing...just...you say you're acting like some kind of nagging mother, now, that's about the least sexy thing you can be.” 

Sansa immediately bristles slightly and Petyr knows he has to be quick.

“And I know you would never be the type of woman to let yourself go after marriage, like so many women do, but is it fair to say that you may have...been slippin' in the attention you gave Harry after he slipped that rock on your finger?”

Sansa was quiet for a moment, eyes flitting to the overflowing ashtray “...Well, maybe I don't pretend the jokes he steals from the Late Show are funny anymore or give him blowjobs in the shower, but come on now. All that was to get him to marry me, a solid year of being better than my best all the time, and now I have him, and I'm tired Petyr. I'm damn tired! He gets to do whatever he wants, runnin' all over town, never seeing me, never taking me anywhere unless it's to show off to his stupid country club friends, and I still have to be perfect for this jacked up idiot!....I'm just real tired...”

She hadn't meant for her voice to crack with emotion, but it had, and she was embarrassed, composing herself again in an instant.

Until Petyr stretched out an arm, gesturing for her.

She hadn't done this in a long time, but she stared at him with softened eyes, standing up from her own chair to step around the desk. To sit on his lap. Wrap her arms around his neck in an embrace she'd missed. She would have felt silly for it, if it wasn't just him and her, and it didn't make her feel so much better.

Sansa Stark had to be perfect. She was twenty, an adult, with responsibilities and dead dreams and a dulled heart, and sometimes she lay next to Harry late at night and hated how she couldn't just stop life and go back, or at least slow it all down. Life was moving faster and it wasn't getting any better, and she found growing up was in part realising and accepting that perhaps it never would.

But then when she came to him, when she sat in his arms, had him rub at her back and whisper in her ear, she was a child again. Like when this all started. She could let everything go and become his, taken cared for, loved and adored. He'd seen her cry, throw tantrums, comforted her at her most needy, helped her with mistakes, it didn't matter. He was still here. He'd still hold her.

They sat like that for awhile. A long while. Until Petyr moved to have her shift her gaze to look at him.

“Now...Harry's an idiot, we always knew that much, and who knows how to deal with idiot boys better than you, hm?” he rubbed at her leg and she smiled, weakly “I've seen you run rings around bigger men than Harry. Don't think for a second you can't get anything you want out of that husband of yours if you put your mind to it.”

Sansa pulled back, red hair falling over one shoulder, her hand coming up to grip lightly at Petyr's un-shaven chin as she leant in and gave him a red lipped kiss, slow and arduous.

“I love you, daddy,” she mumbled, meaning it with all her dulled heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This is born from my love and affection for the tacky glamour that is vegas, in all it's sleazy neon lit debauchery.
> 
> Shout out to Cat/Ocularis too, since I pictured my american Petyr as a sleazy southern gentleman, and Sansa as a perfect southern belle, and she has helped me flesh that out with her first hand southern american knowledge. Did you know southerners calls shopping carts buggys? And a place called 'piggly wigglys existed?' I sure didn't. 
> 
> That's not going to come up in the story though. Expect another couple of chapters to this one.


End file.
